


Mission One: Research and Recon

by aceofneverland



Series: Torchwood Five: America [2]
Category: Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: Because it's me, Children of Earth Fix-It, Deal With It, F/M, I TRIED TO DO MICKEY OKAY I TRIED, M/M, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 14, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Supernatural Spoilers, Third Person POV, Torchwood spoilers, YES I SPELL CASS WITH TWO SES BECAUSE I RESPECT THE WRITER'S CHOICE, but you get jealous dean okay?, destiel is SLOW BURN, high key janto soulmate without the soulmate tropes, ianto jones pov, it's jack you guys what do you expect, jack flirting with everyone, probably, slight slight gwen bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofneverland/pseuds/aceofneverland
Summary: Ianto Jones, recently returned to Jack Harkness, and the Torchwood Five team need to figure out just what's going on.  Was Ianto really sent back by Angels?   It's time to research, and when Martha walks in with a series of crappy novels detailing Supernatural stories that line up well with real-life accidents, and when they find the records of Sam and Dean Winchester, they decide that it's time to go looking for answers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please make sure you read part one before this otherwise you might be confused!  
> I actually had to go back and rework a lot of this chapter, trying to make it all work out how I wanted it to go. It was hard because I wanted Jack and Ianto to meet the Supernatural boys with Jack being super flirty, but also obviously Cass is going to recognize what Ianto is right away so it's going to get tense.  
> ALSO, yes I spell Cass with two 's'es. As much as the writers may screw up on Supernatural, I respect that it's how they picture it being spelled and I like that it's kind of a call out to Cassiel who Castiel may be loosely based off of. Suck it up, deal with it, I'm not going to change it.

 An hour wasn’t really enough time for Jack, Ianto knew that, but he also knew that it wouldn’t be wise to have Martha and Mickey to see he’d risen from the grave while he and Jack were in the middle of – naked aerobics.   So ten minutes before nine, Ianto pulled away from Jack only to grab Jack’s clothes from the places they had ended up.  Jack didn’t complain when Ianto started dressing him again, just watched him with soft eyes.  Neither of them really knew when it had become a thing, Ianto helping Jack get dressed the same way Jack helped Ianto get undressed.  Ianto suspected that some of it came from his father working as a tailor, but also from the way that Jack seemed just as keen about getting dressed as undressed.   It was intimate, slow, and often they didn’t say much while it was happening. 

 

“I’ll get the coffee going then?” Ianto said once they both had their clothes back on, and Jack let out a happy groan.

 

“It hasn’t been the same, you know?  I tried to make some, once we got out here-”

 

Ianto just laughed at that.  “Let me guess, Martha and Mickey weren’t happy with caffeinated sludge?”

 

Jack laughed as well, following Ianto to the small kitchenette and leaning against the counter while Ianto started up the monster of a coffee machine.  He didn’t point out that Jack had bought the complicated contraption for Torchwood Five, even though no one in Torchwood Three except Ianto really liked to use it.  He didn’t point out how hopelessly hopeful that was.  It was odd to think that people couldn’t see how sentimental Jack was, at the end of the day.  Instead, he just started to pull out what he needed to make coffee, scoffing at the brand Jack had bought.  He’d have to go pick up something else later.

 

“Martha started just bringing in coffee from a shop.  They never get it right.  Close, but not close enough,” Jack said. 

 

“Fret no more.  You’ll have your coffee soon enough.”

 

He was just finishing the first batch of coffee, Jack helping him out with what he noticed Martha and Mickey getting when they bought coffee from shops, when there was a loud buzzing and the light over the outside door started blinking.  Ianto rolled his eyes a little at Jack’s antics, because that was such a Torchwood Three mechanic.  Torchwood One had nothing of the likes except for down in the dangerous archives. 

 

Mickey and Martha were laughing as they walked in, jabbing at each other about a barista and flirting.  Martha was holding the to-go cup container out, clearly trying to keep it from tipping over and spilling as Mickey bumped against her and Ianto couldn’t help but be reminded of how many drinks and meals were spilt on the floor of Torchwood Three because of the same thing.  Looking at Jack, he could sense Jack was thinking the same thing.   Sure, Mickey and Martha would never be Tosh or Owen, or Gwen, but this felt familiar and safe. 

 

“Hey Jack…” Martha turned to them with a wide smile that faltered into a face of awe.  The tray of to-go coffees that Martha had been carrying fell to the floor, the dark liquid seeping along.   “Ianto.”

 

Ianto just smiled.  Martha looked from Jack to Ianto back to Jack and when Jack nodded, she ran forward pulling Ianto into a hug.

 

“I don’t know how, but thank god your back.  This one’s a right asshole without you around.”

 

“Hey.  I’m always an asshole,” Jack said with a smile.  “And I don’t believe you two have met.  Ianto, Mickey Smith.  Another ex-companion of the Doctor-”

 

“Sort of.  More, ex-companion of Rose Tyler who was a companion to the Doctor,” Mickey corrected, and while Ianto sensed there was a lot more to the story (knowing the Doctor and how he was) there was no bitterness in Mickey’s voice. 

 

“Weapons and tech expert.  Spent some time in the Universe the Cybermen came from and got good at what he was doing,” Jack said.

 

“Yeah, I remember seeing you at Canary Wharf,” Ianto said, though the memory was vague and only brought back to the surface by Jack’s comment.  It wasn’t as though Ianto spent much time thinking about that day.  “Nice to meet you.”

 

Mickey held out a hand and they shook.  “I’ve heard a lot about you from Jack.  Good to finally meet you.”

 

And with that, Ianto had to explain again over coffee (which Martha and Mickey both said must be sent from God) how he was there.  It was the abridged version of it – Prince of Heaven made because the Angels wanted him to find the archangel Michael and send him back up – because they didn’t really need to hear the long version, and neither of them asked for it either. 

 

“So Angels are real?” Martha asked. “What about other things? Demons? Vampires? Ghosts?”

 

Mickey groaned, earning him a napkin thrown by Martha. “Not the Vampires again.”

 

“Oi! I was in college, alright!  My friends and I enjoyed our girls nights.”

 

“As far as I know, no,” Jack said, “but there was always this organization.  They had made a deal with Torchwood back when I was new.  Pretty much the deal was, we only dealt with what came from space.  Anything that was strange but clearly not space related was to be left to them.  At the beginning, there were a lot of cases where their head and our head would fight over – jurisdiction.  As time went on, they stopped by less and less.”

 

“So it’s possible that these kinds of things existed, but there was another organization dealing with it.  Good to know that everything I’ve been told is a lie,” Ianto said. 

 

And after coffee made by Ianto and muffins that Martha had gotten from the café, there were really two things to be done (both of which were Ianto’s specialties) – organizing the Hub and researching the Supernatural. Really, Ianto thought it must have been luck that brought him to Torchwood Five when it did because the Archives were a disaster.   The word _organization_ must not be in Jack Harkness’ vocabulary, because it didn’t exist and Ianto knew he’d be spending weeks, at least, properly organizing and labelling everything.  Heaven forbid they reach for the singularity scalpel (which either survived the destruction of Torchwood Three or Jack had found another) with a device that changes the hair color of the target.  

 

So, began the first mission of Torchwood Five.  Ianto organized, and the Team continued to make the Hub their home, and they spent hours researching all they could on Angels, Demons, the Supernatural – trying to figure out what was lore and what was real.   Ianto was surprised to find that Jack mainly worked alongside Mickey and Martha in the main Hub, rather than retreating to his office, but he suspected that was because it was far different working with just two other people.   They got a spare desk and ordered another computer set up for Ianto, but really they were still ordering a lot to properly set up the base.

 

Jack was in phone calls a lot – working out with the government how Torchwood was to proceed in America.  Jack wanted nothing to do with the government, didn’t want to be bound under their rules and regulations as he complained about _often_ when he and Ianto spent their nights in the cabin above the base.  Still, they had to come up with some kind of agreement if they were ever going to get any kind of peace in their work.  And their pay had to come from somewhere.  While Ianto was sure that Jack had said he had savings stashed away somewhere, he was sure a lot of that had gone into creating the Hub.  They were no longer working under the Queen, but under Jack.

 

When Jack wasn’t in phone calls, he often dragged Ianto out to the shooting range (that wasn’t fully set up yet, as most things) to see if they could at all figure out what kind of powers he’d been given.  He tried to make things move mentally, tried to read Jack’s mind, even tried his hand at the weird flight he had experienced from Heaven to Torchwood.  Nothing.  But when he grabbed a gun and shot, it felt different, slower.  When Jack shot pellets at Ianto, they seemed to move slower than they should have been and none of them hit (and Jack Harkness never missed).   He found himself sleeping less, getting maybe four hours a night, which was fine because Jack didn’t ever sleep long either and they had lost time to make up for. 

 

It was a week after Ianto had returned and he was prepping coffee for Mickey and Martha while Jack was off on yet another phone call with the government.   Ianto had noticed as well that what he had began calling his Jack Compass before he’d died was stronger than before.   It had been sometime after Lisa but before Suzie came back that Ianto noticed how he could just tell where Jack Harkness was.  He’d walk into the Hub and before the door even fully open he knew Jack was in his office, or in the archives, or in their kitchenette.  His eyes naturally followed Jack around the room, tracking him, pointing Ianto towards him.  Since he’d been back, it felt like someone had cranked that up even more.  Maybe it was the fact that his senses seemed to be dialed up, but standing in the kitchen it almost was like he could sense Jack through the concrete walls to where he was in his office on the phone probably pacing.  Most definitely pacing, he could almost hear the muffled footsteps going back and forth across the office.

 

The light above the door flashed and beeped, alerting Ianto to the arrival of Mickey and Martha (a couple minutes past nine but really they could probably show up at noon and Jack wouldn’t say anything, because as much as he tried to be hard as long as there wasn’t an emergency he didn’t question his team.  He never questioned when Gwen came in an hour or two later than the rest of them because of whatever excuse she had).  Ianto grabbed the mugs of coffee and placed them on their respective desks as Martha dropped a box of books on the desk that had been pulled out and designated as Ianto’s, that was still empty (the computer parts were coming but had been delayed which had caused Mickey to be on the phone with the manufacturers for an hour two days prior). 

 

“What are those?” Ianto asked, grabbing the first one he reached.

 

“Delivery up top that Jack wanted from your UNIT connections,” Mickey said.  “You can fill him in on this idea of yours and convince him that you’re not just going through another _Twilight_ phase.” He raised his cup as thanks to Ianto before going to the back door where the elevator was, ignore Martha’s half hearted protests.

 

The books looked like the tacky novels you could get in an airport, or the ones that were tucked away in one off book stores.    A crappy computer-generated painting of two guys – one shirtless with long hair and the other in a muscle tank with an army buzz cut – standing in front of what appeared to be a Chevy Impala.

 

“Supernatural: Women in White,” Ianto reads off the cover before turning it to the side and seeing a nicely printed “1” on the top of spine.   “Is there a reason you’ve gone and picked up knock off _Twilight_ books, Martha?  I hope for Mickey’s sake that this isn’t going to become an _interest_ of yours.”

 

Martha lightly hit him on the arm before shuffling through the box of books and pulling out one titled _Skins_.

 

“They solve a case, in Saint Louis, Missouri in October of 2005.  What they call a Shifter going around using other people’s faces to kill people,” Martha said.  She put the book down and typed on the computer, pulling up a news report about a string of killings in Saint Louis in October of 2005. 

 

She grabs another book, _Scarecrow_ , “Couples going missing in Burkitsville Indiana every end of April,” she said.  She pulls up an article about serial disappearances in Burkitsville.  “These ended in 2006, when the book was supposed to take place.”

 

She grabs another book, _All Hell Breaks Loose_. “Giant gate to Hell in Wyoming.  I looked up Wyoming in that time period and the weird occurrences that are mentioned in the book are all lined up.  They all line up.  I stayed up all night, Ianto, and the books are mirroring real life.”

 

“And no one has questioned it,” Ianto laughed. “Humans – we’re interesting, aren’t we?  Well … I guess that’s a you now not a we.”  Martha gave him a look of sympathy that Ianto didn’t want, so he pushed on.  “So, if these are at least somewhat accurate, we have places we can start looking.  We can start looking for people, looking up the lore mentioned in …”

 

Ianto trailed off as Jack ran by, no coat.   There it was, the Jack Compass, pointing Ianto him.  At Martha and Ianto’s puzzled looks, Jack just shouts, “Delivery!”

 

Ianto just shakes his head, but his eyes follow Jack until he can’t be seen anymore.  He then turns to the box of books and sighs.  “We’ve got work ahead of us.  We’ll have to go through all of these, pull out any information we might need to look up and research.”

 

“Long day ahead of us,” Martha said.

 

It would be, but they had a lead.  It was better than the general internet searches they had been going by, trying to figure out what was true and what was not because there was so much surrounding the Supernatural.  So they both settled down, grabbing a book and started to skim through it for any information they might be able to pull from them.  Ianto was only about halfway through when he heard the back elevator, used for heavier loads and for getting injured in and out, opened. 

 

“Ianto!”

 

And how good it felt to hear Jack calling him again, the slight pitch of neediness hidden away in it.  It’d only been a week, and Ianto wasn’t quite used to being alive and not living in his memories anymore.  Martha rolled her eyes a little as Ianto put the book aside, got to his feet, and calmly walked over to the elevator where Jack was beaming next to a shaking crate.

 

“UNIT tracked her down, took her in after Torchwood Three was destroyed.  Smart girl found her way out and to relative safety,” Jack said, and Ianto recognized the noises coming from the crate.  He could help the smile that broke onto his face.

 

“Myfanwy!”

 

Sure, the pterodactyl wasn’t really a pet.  She always just kind of was there, and they fed her, and she took to breaking non-important things, but at the same time Ianto had grown rather fond of her (even before she’d dropped Jack Harkness on top of him), and he’d admittedly been worried when Torchwood Three was destroyed that she’d gone down with it.

 

Jack smiled and handed a crowbar over to Ianto, who took it and started breaking the nails out of the crate. He stopped after the first one and glanced at Mickey.  “You might want to back up.  She’s even aggressive with people she knows,” he warned, and Mickey quickly took his steps back.

 

After the first couple of nails, Myfanwy seemed to figure out what was happening and started pushing her wait against the crate.  After the first couple boards came off, it was weak enough that she could break free and Jack grabbed Ianto roughly before she could knock into him as she took flight into her new home.  Ianto stumbled, falling against Jack who stumbled to the ground as well, though Ianto wondered how much Jack had really resisted falling when they ended up in a very similar position as one of the first times they had met.

 

“I’m beginning to think Myfanwy has a secret agenda,” Jack laughed.

 

Ianto started to push up, and he could feel Jack tightened his grip a little, one eyebrow quirking upward in question.  Ianto pressed a quick kiss to Jack’s lips, what he might have done that night _years_ prior, before managing to push up. 

 

“Martha’s got a lead, and we’ll need _everyone_ to be looking into it if we want this done in a reasonable time.”

 

“Always with work on the mind.”

 

Ianto paused and glanced back at Jack with a smirk on his lips. “Not always, sir.”

 

Martha had been right when she said it was a long day ahead of them.  Even with all four of them working, interrupted for food, coffee, and the various shipments that were coming in to make the Hub, well a Hub rather than an empty labyrinth of concrete.  Ianto was even more discouraged to find that there were at least 40 unpublished works, released by someone close to Carver Edlund, on top of the roughly 50 published works.  Even though all of the books were short, a hundred to a hundred and fifty pages in general, Ianto had to wonder how this man got so much written out.   It was nearing eight at night, empty pizza boxes and paper plates scattered across the desks, when Jack cleared his throat.

 

“Alright, what do we have so far.”

 

“Carver Edlund, a pseudonym for Chuck Shurley,” Ianto said. “Disappeared in 2010 and no one has been able to find him sense.”

 

“Most likely connected to the Supernatural,” Martha added in.  “If he was able to write about all of this.”

 

“Brothers Sam and Dean Winchester do exist in real life,” Mickey added. “Though it was reported that they died in an explosion at a police station, the books and reported sightings of them state otherwise.”

 

“They seem to be the best people to contact about things of Supernatural origins, probably know who Michael is and where to find them, and would likely know what the angels made me.”

 

“But, they have an Angel that’s been following them around, rebelling against heaven,” Jack added.  “If any of this is real.”

 

“I cross referenced the events in the works released online.  They check out with real life events,” Martha said. “It’s likely they hold some truth.”

 

“The Rift here, the reason you chose this spot,” Ianto said.  “Is it possible it’s linked more to them than the Space Time Continuum?  The readings are different than the ones from Cardiff, more regular.  And have we seen anything come through?”

 

“Not yet, but the Rift in Cardiff didn’t start spewing anything out until a year after it had been created,” Jack said.

 

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it?  It spewed things out the year before it was created.  There was just this blank year bracketing its creation, but from there it spread out before and after the activation.  This rift hasn’t done that.  There’re no reports of Rift occurrences before it popped up on your scanners six months ago.”

 

A small smile slipped onto Jack’s lips, but it was gone just as fast as it came.  Praise without being praised.  Jack stood from his chair, turning to lean against the desks.  “So what’s the plan, team?” 

 

It was a test, really.  Jack already knew what he wanted to do, if Ianto knew anything about Jack (and he knew quite a lot).  He wanted to see how they worked together.  Sure, Martha and Mickey should work well together but marriage didn’t always mean that, and in the end Ianto was the new guy (as he had been until Gwen before).

 

“We find the Winchesters,” Ianto said. 

 

“How?” Mickey asked. “They’re never in one place.  Jumping from motel to motel.”

 

“The car,” Ianto said.  “We don’t know much about it other than the make and model, but if we start cross referencing that with the events in the books it will not only give us proof of their existence but we could also start a system to look for that car coming and going on camera footage.”

 

Mickey immediately rolled over to his computer, starting to type.  “We just have to get into CCTV and satellite footage.  It’ll be a massive amount of data to be processing.”

 

“Can you do it?” Jack asked.

 

Mickey paused for a moment. “I’m better with mechanical tech than computer, but I’ll do what I can.”  Jack nodded.

 

“We can start looking for the people we know have bases,” Martha said.  “Robert Singer, Jody Mills.”

 

“Both in Sioux Falls,” Ianto said.  He paused for a moment, thinking about that distance.  It had never been an issue in Cardiff.  Issues tended to be localized to the Rift, and if they went out further there were other UK bases that could reach out and help, but America was far larger, and if issues were beyond Rift activity.  Jack was smirking, that look in his eyes said he knew something that others didn’t.

 

“America is big,” Jack said, as though reading Ianto’s mind. “And as Humans become more aware of alien presence, aliens come down across the globe more and more.  It used to be centered on England, and there still is a large attraction to there, but there’s some kind of energy drawing them to America.”

 

“Possibly caused by the Supernatural?” Ianto said, and Jack shrugged in agreement.

 

“Either way, we knew we had to be able to get across America quickly.  If someone happened in New York while we’re in Washington, it could take too long,” Jack said. “So Mickey had a brilliant idea.”

 

“Your idea, my engineering,” Mickey said.

 

“Ah but you put the idea into my head.  He said, if there was a way we could get our hands on more Vortex Manipulators.  Which is impossible with today’s technology, but what isn’t impossible – given that we have access to alien tech and a somewhat working Vortex Manipulator is a more rudimentary system.”

 

“Bases, across big US Cities and hotspots of alien activity,” Martha jumped in.  “And temporal teleportation units in each one.  Based off of some alien technology UNIT passed down to us as well as Jack’s Manipulator.”

 

“So you have teleporters in bases across America, that are probably in worse conditions that this base?” Ianto asked.

 

“There’s not exactly bases, more outposts,” Jack said.  “Small buildings and warehouses not being used that we set up the teleporter in, a couple computers and some places to store items we can’t bring back here in a timely manner.”

 

“We should get one set up near Sioux Falls,” Martha said, and Jack’s face fell just a little before Martha jumped in.  “I’ll make the call to get it set up.”

 

“Thank you, Martha.”

 

Ianto just shook his head.  Whoever had the brilliant idea of making Jack talk to governments was psychotic.  Sure, Jack was a brilliant leader and he really wouldn’t follow anyone else, but _compromise_ was another word that didn’t exist in Jack Harkness’ dictionary which meant that the phone calls he’d been making with the government, army, police forces, they all tended to end in yelling.  Perhaps it would be better if Martha or Ianto took over being a government liaison, but that was a conversation for another time.

 

For now, Ianto slid over to Martha’s computer as she goes off to make her call and started pulling up records of everyone in the books that might have a more permanent home, that they might be able to find the Winchesters at.

 

“Robert Singer died in a hospital in ­New Jersey in 2012 from a gunshot wound to the head,” Ianto read off the screen with a sigh.  “Jody Mills is still alive, Sheriff of Sioux Falls.  We’ve had luck with cops before.”

 

Jack scoffs a little, though it’s not harsh. “Sometimes.  Not really until Gwen and her connections came.”

 

Martha comes back over. “Got an old factory outside of Sioux Falls.  No one’s touched it in year and it should be pretty easy to arm,” she said. 

 

“Well it looks like we need to head out there to set up the outpost.  Maybe we can see what the Sheriff’s station looks like as well,” Jack said.  “Go home, get some sleep.  We’ll head over in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

Ianto could feel Jack’s breath on his hair, warm and comforting, and even though neither of them were asleep they laid in silence for a while.  It was around three or four in the morning, Ianto having slept enough and Jack – well he was never sure if Jack actually slept or not.  After a little while of silence, though it was hard to tell how long, Ianto spoke.

 

“Why did you choose America?”

 

Jack shifted, though not letting the arms that around Ianto go any looser.  “The Doctor took me to Cardiff, and I knew I couldn’t set up again there.  The Rift – of course it was still there, but they have other means of protecting people from what comes through it.  There were too many memories.  I’d walk down the street and I’d see you, and Tosh and Owen.

 

“So, I needed to be somewhere else.  I thought about staying in the UK, but it’s got its protections and America was beginning to have more and more encounters.  America always wanted to have its encounters, but didn’t really have any except for the Silence until later in the 21st Century.”

 

“The 2st Century is when it all changes,” Ianto said, quoting Jack back to him.

 

“They were having more sightings.  They used to have an organization like Torchwood, but it got cut a year or two back by the government.  They needed somebody, and America wasn’t surrounded in the pain England was.”

 

“So you took Martha and Mickey and came here,” Ianto said. “Did you tell Gwen?  Does she even know you’re back.”

 

“No.  She has a life.  She’s with the police again, a Captain, and her and Rhys’ girl, well she’s nearly nine now.”

 

“You knew she’d say yes to you.”

 

“I knew she couldn’t be tempted to come back.  She served her time, but she needed to have her own life,” Jack said.  “It’s as simple as that.”

 

Ianto nodded and was silent for a minute before asking, “So is Area 51 Real?”

 

Jack laughed, one of his short but full-bodied laughs. “No, no.  Weapons development but they keep up the alien rumors because it keeps the public happy and not questioning them.” Jack rolled over, on top of Ianto and staring down into him.  Ianto rolled his eyes a little, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck.

 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Ianto?  Do you really want to know what you are?”

 

“Says the man who ran off after his Doctor to try to figure out the same question.”

 

“And I never got an answer, was told that I wouldn’t ever know, that I wasn’t supposed to exist,” Jack whispered before leaning down and kissing Ianto’s forehead.

 

“I need to know Jack.  I need to, to finish these missions they’re going to give me.  So that I can stay me.”

 

“What if they ask you to do something you can’t do?”

 

Ianto paused, one of his hands moving to rub over Jack’s cheek. “I don’t think I’ll really have a choice.  It’s do it as me, or they brainwash me to do it.”

 

Jack shook his head, pressed down again this time to kiss Ianto’s lips. “You know I wouldn’t let them.  I’d get you back.”

 

“You’d fight your way through Heaven for me?” Ianto said, smiling and teasing, but Jack’s face remained serious.

 

“I would.”

 

Ianto surged up, capturing Jack’s lips with his own, and Jack pressed down into him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advanced! I suck at introduction scenes and I suck at scenes where characters are giving each other information. I promise, just bare with me.

Ianto, as per routine, had cups of coffee at the ready when Martha and Mickey made their way into the Hub the next morning, though this time they were packed away in travelling mugs and an overnight duffle bag was at his feet (Jack had told him that they could always come  back at night, but really the bag had been filled with weapons and tools, and Ianto didn’t miss Jack tucking an extra pair of underwear into it). 

 

“Jack, we’ve got something,” Mickey said as soon as the two of them walked in, both accepting their coffees from Ianto before Mickey went over to his computer.  “Computer finished processing the camera footage of the Chevy Impala last night and it found something.  It seems like since the last chapter in 2010, they found a home base.  Chevy Impala that was scene at the scenes of the crimes over the past decade and a half was picked returning often to the outskirts of Lebanon, Kansas.”

 

Mickey pulled up satellite footage of a sleek black Chevy Impala driving through the small town Ianto assumed must be Lebanon.  “I can’t find footage of where it goes, but there’s an old abandoned factory from the 1920s out just a little way,” Mickey added.

 

“Sounds like the perfect place to have a secret hide out,” Ianto said, and Jack nodded in agreement.

 

“Good work, Mickey,” Jack said.  “You and Martha head to the outpost in Chicago.  If you use one of the Torchwood vans it should be six or seven hours to Sioux Falls.  Get the transport up, see if you can’t make friendly with Sheriff Mills in case we ever are out that way.  Ianto and I will head to the base in Denver and make our way out to Lebanon to see what we find.”

 

“And if you find the Winchesters?” Martha asked.

 

“Round of coffee?  Maybe we can make friends,” Ianto said, though they all knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.  From what they’d seen, the Winchesters worked alone or with family.  The run ins they had with the FBI would make them wary of any organization confronting them, especially on their own turf.  Ianto knew why he was doing it though – Ianto wanted answers and the quickest way to answers would be to either get in contact with the Angels (who Ianto suspected wouldn’t be much help) or talk with the two people who seemed to have the most knowledge of the supernatural.

 

Martha and Mickey went first, Mickey lugging a bag of equipment onto the transport with him all while muttering about how he hates driving in America.  They’re both gone in a flash, Jack going over the monitor to make sure the transports are all clear before they can go.

 

“You first, I’ll make sure everything is clear back here,” Jack said.  “We’ll pick up the van that’s there and head out.”

 

“Do I even want to know where you’re getting all the resources and money to put this all together,” Ianto asked as he stepped onto the teleporter.

 

Jack just winked before hitting the button that would send Ianto off.  It wasn’t quite the same as it had felt when the Angels sent him down to Torchwood, but that was the best comparison he had.  While it wasn’t the world blurring by him, stepping off of the transport on the other side Ianto felt like he might throw up what was in his stomach.  Only a couple seconds later he could hear the electronic whistling that signaled Jack arriving and a warm hand was rubbing his back.

 

“You’ll get used to it.  It’s rough at first.”

 

“I’m fine,” Ianto said, straightening up.  “Where’s the car.”

 

Jack nodded to the other side of the small warehouse they’d appeared in, spinning the keys in his hands. “I assume you’ve never driven in America, which means I’m driving.”

 

Ianto didn’t object.   They both could drive fine, it just always tended to be Ianto who drove when they were back in Cardiff.  It was part of his job description – get them everywhere on time – but Jack was right in assuming he’d never driven on the _wrong_ side of the road before. 

 

It was supposed to be a six hour drive, though Jack managed to drop it to a four and a half hour driving both going over the speed limit and using the lights attached to the van when traffic got bad.  It felt like old times, going on Weevil hunts (because while Gwen would tease them about it, they actually did hunt Weevils _first_ and then would get up to other stuff).   Anticipation about what they would be facing was building, but they ignored that growing tension by joking and laughing – talking about old times with Tosh and Owen and Gwen, Ianto talking about childhood stories, Jack telling stories he didn’t know if he could really believe.

 

Ianto could feel his nerves sinking in a little as they grew closer though.  This shouldn’t be as frightening as Weevil hunting, but Ianto knew Weevils and he didn’t know what would come of this.   They were just people, and Jack and him really meant no harm, but people could be crazy.  He couldn’t help but be reminded of the cannibals they’d run into on his first official field case with Torchwood Three.    As though sensing all of this, Jack reached over and squeezed Ianto’s thigh reassuringly as they passed into Lebanon. 

 

“Wait – there’s the Impala,” Ianto said, pointing to the sleek car moving past them and toward the freeway.  With a quick glance at each other, Jack jerked the car and started following. 

 

“They’re going to notice us,” Ianto said.

 

“That’s the point.  We want their attention, we’re going to get it.”

 

“I do suppose this is better than just walking up to their secret base and expecting to not be shot.”

 

Jack paused, the silence heavy. “We still don’t know what you can survive,” Jack said.

 

“I doubt the Angels would want me to be dead so fast,” Ianto said, but he continued with. “Don’t worry.  I’ll be careful.  Aren’t I always?”

 

“You’re also stubborn which is …”

 

“What got me killed in the first place.”  Ianto reached over, squeezing Jack’s shoulder just a little.  “You’re not going to lose me again, not that easily.”

 

Jack nodded, and Ianto pulled away.   He grabbed Jack’s phone from where it was sitting in the cup holder to see what reason might pull the Winchesters from their bunker.  It still awed him that he could easily connect to the internet on a phone, but he was quickly learning that he still preferred a computer, or even a laptop, to the tiny screens of phones and the difficulties of getting into places he shouldn’t be.

 

“There’s been a body found in Hastings, Nebraska.  Heart removed.  I would bet that’s where they’re heading,” Ianto said.

 

It was another hour until Hastings, though the Winchesters seemed to like to go over the speed limit as much as Jack did.  Still, Ianto was getting antsy.  They never spent this much time in the car just to get to the place when they were in Cardiff.  Sure, maybe during stake outs they would spend hours in the car, but this was a different ballpark.  This was driving hours just to get to the damned place. 

 

The Winchesters pulled over into the parking lot of a cheap motel, neon light flickering and threatening to fall over.  Ianto tried not to squirm at the thought of staying in a place like this.  Jack followed them in, not really caring that it was obvious they’d just been followed for an hour, and it was clear they’d picked up on it as three men climbed out of the sports car and started making their way to the van.  Jack and Ianto exchanged only a moment look before climbing out of the van, meeting the men at the back end.

 

“Hello,” Jack said, plastering on his award winning, charm smile.  He glanced over the three of them before nodding to the shortest (though not by much) of the group and added, “I like the coat.”

 

“You’ve been following us,” one said – this one with short light brown hair and stubble running up his cheek.  From what they’d pulled up on the Winchester brothers, the pictures that had been released with the FBI was chasing them, Ianto knew it to be Dean, the older brother.

 

“Torchwood,” Jack said, flipping open the ID he had stashed in his pocket and holding it out for Dean.

 

“What the hell is Torchwood?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jack teased.  Ianto didn’t have to look to know that Jack had probably winked, was probably turning up the charm.  Because that’s what Jack did, he charmed and flirted to get a reaction out of people, to start to read them.  And because he liked the attention.

 

But Ianto wasn’t paying attention to Dean and Jack, not to Dean sizing Jack up and Jack happily responding because he could never turn down a sizing competition.   Instead, his eyes turned to the man in the trench coat, the one who clearly wasn’t a Winchester and who Ianto had to assume – no, he knew he was looking at an Angel.  He could just sense it, he could feel the power radiating off of the man, and he could sense something else.  Something shifting, sliding down the man’s sleeve.  Just the end of a silver blade poked out of his trench coat and his eyes were locked on Ianto.  They both moved at the same time, the Angel pulling out the blade for everyone to see and Ianto pulling his gun out and aiming it for the man’s head.  He couldn’t kill an Angel with a bullet, but he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

 

Of course, this set off a chain reaction.   Dean and Sam Winchester pulled out their guns, pointing them at Ianto and Jack pulled out his revolver, pointing it at Dean.  The tension, the question of who would move first, was heavy in the air and Ianto knew someone was going to be calling the cops as soon as they saw five men holding guns at each other.

 

“What are you?” the Angel growled.

 

“You know what I am, and your first instinct was to attack,” Ianto replied.

 

“You’re outgunned,” Dean growled, and Ianto just snorted and glanced toward Jack.

 

“Really not worried.”

 

“You shouldn’t exist,” the Angel responded.  “There are none left.  They all decided to stay in Heaven.”

 

Ianto looked around, calculating.   This wasn’t how things needed to go.  They needed answers, they were on the same side.  So, he clicked the safety back onto his gun and slowly slipped it back into its spot on his hip.  Jack looked at him like he was crazy, and Ianto prayed that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

 

“Heaven was desperate.  They only choice they gave me was to keep my mind or be their brainless soldier,” Ianto said.  “We’re here for answers, that’s it.”

 

“Cass, what the hell is going on?” Dean snapped, his eyes darting to the Angel.

 

“This man is a Prince of Heaven, but they haven’t existed in thousands of years.  They all died, or chose to remain in heaven rather than continue to watch the people they loved die as they continued to live.”

 

“Prince of Heaven – like the Princes of Hell?” the third man asked, speaking for the first time, and Ianto suspected this was Sam Winchester.

 

“Where do you think Hell got the idea from.  Only Archangels were supposed to be able to make Princes, though,” Castiel said.

 

“So he’s from Michael?” Dean growled.

 

“Naomi,” Ianto said.  “She sent me because they couldn’t spare any Angels to leave Heaven.  Or maybe they just didn’t want to dirty their hands.  They want Michael.”

 

“Oh _Naomi_ , like that’s any better.”

 

“Why don’t we put the guns away,” Jack said, though it wasn’t a question.  Ianto knew that voice, knew that it was the voice Jack used when you didn’t really have a choice other than to do what he said.  It was the same voice Jack had used when he told Ianto to shoot Lisa or Jack would shoot them both, and that was the only time Ianto had ever said no to that voice.

 

It happened quickly, but it seemed to move slowly for Ianto.  Cass (he assumes the Angel Castiel) moves forward and before Ianto can warn him that it won’t do any good, Jack has shot off a bullet.  It lands perfectly in the middle of Cass’ forehead, though it doesn’t do much.  By the time the bullet has pushed back out of Cass’ forehead and landed on the ground, Dean Winchester let off his own bullet which buried itself in Jack’s head.  Jack crumples to the ground, and Ianto just lets off a frustrated sigh.  Now Jack was just going to be complaining about a headache later.

 

Dean looked a little surprised that he’d fired, and Ianto supposed it had been out of instinct to protect – or an instinct of to kill or be killed.  He wondered if they thought he was crazy for not checking on his partner, but he already had a countdown going in his head.  Most of the time a bullet wound had Jack back on his feet in a minute, when Owen had shot him it had been longer though that seemed to be a weird case.   It hurt Ianto to not move to Jack’s side, to be holding him when he woke up as he tried to do whenever Jack was downed, but he couldn’t do that now.  He had to remain professional, calm. 

 

“We didn’t come here to attack you,” Ianto said, his voice still steady.

 

“You pulled your gun!” Dean snapped.

 

“Because he pulled out that blade.  Either way, we just came to get information and to give some in return.  Maybe acknowledge the existence of the other in case something comes up that we can’t do on our own.  We’re on the same side – keeping Earth safe.”

 

“What do you mean exchanging information,” Sam asked.  Well at least one of them was reasonable. 

 

“Well I didn’t really get told what I am.  I was told I was a Prince of Heaven, told to find Michael, and then sent away,” Ianto said. “I have no idea what any of that means, what I can do, what they expect.”

 

“That doesn’t surprise me.  Naomi prefers to give information when it’s necessary,” Cass responded.

 

“And what do we get in return?” Sam asked.

 

“Information about Torchwood, about who we are, about the threats we protect Earth from.”

 

“Last time an organization reached out to us, they went up in flames,” Dean said.

 

“I doubt Torchwood compares to whatever organization reached out to you last.  We work for the good of the Earth, we protect.”

 

“The Men of Letters said the same thing, but they wanted to kill everything that wasn’t human, whether they’d hurt anyone or not.”  Ianto wondered who the Men of Letters were, if they were the organization that had reached out to Torchwood before that Jack had been telling them about.

 

“We don’t kill innocent beings,” Jack said.

 

Ianto didn’t flinch.  He glanced at the watch on his wrist – a little earlier than he expected.  The other three, however, jumped and went rigid.  Dean’s hand tightened on his gun again.

 

“Son of a -” Dean started.

 

“It would be best for you not to waste your bullets.  He’ll just keep coming back,” Ianto said.  He held his hand out, helping Jack back to his feet and perhaps their hands lingered a little longer than normal. “You good Jack?”

 

“I’ll have a headache later, but I’m fine.  Now can we put the guns down and talk?  Or are we just going to keep standing out here like idiots until the police come?” Jack asked.

 

The other three men exchanged looks.  Sam was the first to lower his gun, tucking it back into the back of his pants, followed by Castiel returning his blade to wherever it had come from, and finally Dean lowering his gun. 

 

“Dean go get the room.  We can all talk in there where we won’t be overheard,” Sam said.

 

“Why do I have to go get it,” Dean grumbled.

 

“Because you just shot someone when you knew bullets don’t hurt Cass,” Sam snarked back.

 

Ianto raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jack to see he was trying to hold back a smirk as well.  It reminded Ianto of how he or Jack would work with Owen.  Sure, Owen could be an ass but he was like a brotherly ass.  Especially in the months Jack was gone after they’d stopped Abaddon, he and Owen found themselves often rolling their eyes at Gwen’s antics together and had even gone bar hoping a few nights together.  It was nothing like the friendship that had kindled between him and Tosh after Lisa, but it was something good. 

 

And he hated that it was gone.  Martha and Mickey were amazing, but they would never replace Owen and Tosh, and it would be fair to try to see them as such.  They were different people with different skill sets.  Though Ianto did suspect that they would eventually need someone with better computer skills than what he and Mickey could piece together, and Mickey could focus on the weapons and physical technology. 

 

Dean returned, grumbling about how the manager almost didn’t give them a room and how he had to flash his FBI Badge (fake, Ianto assumed) multiple times before they were allowed to stay.  But they were, and the five men found themselves crammed inside the two-bed Room 7.

 

“So who the hell are you?  And what the hell are you?” Dean asked once the door was closed.

 

“Captain Jack Harkness, and this is Ianto Jones.  I’m a human from the 51st Century who can no longer die thanks to some Time-Space Vortex energy, and he is – well we’re trying to figure that out.”

 

“I’m Sam Winchester.  This is my brother Dean, and our friend Castiel.”

 

“Wait,” Dean said. “51st Century – Time-Space Vortex?  You sound like you just walked off the set of Star Trek.”

 

Ianto glanced over at Jack, who was smirking just a little bit.  “Let me guess.  You hunt down the Supernatural, but you don’t believe Aliens exist.”

 

“You know who believe in Aliens – crackheads.”

 

“Dean, Aliens very much do exists,” Castiel interjected. “There are other life forms in the universe.” 

 

“But how?” Sam asked.  “Chuck – God, whatever – made Earth, Angels, Humans.”

 

“And you met Amara,” Castiel said. “Angels believe that there were more beings like my Father and Amara scattered around the darkness that was the universe.  They each eventually would try their hand at making, creating.  Earth has even seen these creatures visit, though Humans like to find other explanations for them all.”

 

“You’re saying that God exists?” Ianto asked.  “God?  Benevolent creator of Earth?  And he just lets awful things happen?”

 

Dean snorted, “Never said benevolent.  More like a writer who got too much power.”

 

“No one all powerful can be all good,” Jack said, calm and collected, his mask never dropping, though Ianto couldn’t help if Jack was thinking about his Doctor.  The Doctor who was good, and kind, and powerful, but who had told Jack that he shouldn’t exist and that he was wrong.  Ianto caught Jack’s eye and gave him a little nod, the comfort he was comfortable showing in a room full of people he didn’t know.

 

A silence fell over the room for a minute before Sam cleared his throat, and Ianto decided that he seemed to be the one who knew how to take charge with people, or at least push through awkward situations.  “So how did you become – a Prince of Heaven.”

 

Third time in two days telling the same story, it had to be a record.  This time, Ianto kept it to the basics.  The Winchesters and Co. didn’t need to know what his memories were, that Naomi had tempted him with a life with Jack forever, that he begged to see Tosha and Owen.  They just needed to know that she came to him, changed him, and sent him to Earth to find Michael.  They had seemed shocked by that at first, but Castiel quickly filled in that if Heaven got an archangel, they may be able to save themselves from shutting down completely.   The topic of Michael had brought an odd tension amongst the members of the room, and Ianto suspected that they knew exactly who Michael was.

 

“So why are you here?” Dean asked.

 

“What, we can follow you around to ask you for a night out, get some drinks?” Jack asked, earning himself a cold glare from Dean.  Odd.  It was Dean who was the one reacting the most, shoving off Jack’s flirtations like they were toxic.  Ianto only had to look out of the corner of his eye to see Jack had noticed the same thing – which would only lead to trouble down the line.

 

“I’m not sure exactly what being a Prince of Heaven entails, and we were hoping that you might know more about where Michael might be, so that I can finish the mission they’ve given me,” Ianto said.

 

“No deal.  Michael isn’t going to Heaven where he might escape.  He’s getting killed and that’s that.”

 

“Dean, I’ve seen Heaven and it’s failing.  If it does fail, the _billions_ of souls, we don’t know where they’ll go.  Maybe they’ll come back down as spirits, maybe they’ll go somewhere else.  It’s Heaven’s job to guard and protect those souls.  Michael could save them,” Castiel said.

 

Dean wasn’t happy about that, it was clear of that.

 

“Why reach out to us?” Sam asked.  “You’re an organization, why not find another organization.  Have you heard of the Men of Letters?”

 

“Torchwood originated in England.  They reached out to us there, told us to stick to Aliens and leave the rest to them.  I didn’t even try to see if they were in America,” Jack said. 

 

“Besides, from what we could find – everything pointed to you two,” Ianto said.

 

Dean groaned, and Sam and Castiel looked at him, confused.  “You found the books didn’t you?  Fucking Chuck.”

 

Ianto paused for a second, rethought about the conversation they just had.  “You wouldn’t be talking about the same Chuck you referred to as God, would you?”

 

“God went around masquerading as a prophet a few years back under the name Chuck Shurley.  He then published the _Supernatural_ books under the pseudonym Carver Edlund,” Sam explained.  “Either way.  You said you wanted to trade information.  Why?”

 

“Nothing comes for free.  Everyone wants something,” Ianto said.  “And we thought, perhaps, if we’re all working to keep the Earth safe, it might be good to get to know each other.  Be able to contact each other if big things are happening.”

 

“You want us to call you if we track down Michael,” Dean snapped.

 

“We want to be able to assist you in case you ever have a run in with a Sontaran, with Daleks, Cybermen.  In case you ever find a strange object that’s come through a Time Rift from the 32nd Century.   You know nothing about Aliens, as we know next to nothing about the Supernatural.  We figured it would be smart to help each other not get killed,” Ianto said.

 

Sam, seeming to be wanting to sooth the tension again, stepped in. “That would be great.  Maybe we can set something up.  I can send you guys some basic information about Supernatural creatures you might encounter, you can send me back some information about Aliens we might encounter, or at least what to look for so we can call you.”

 

“Sam!”

 

“Dean, they’re right.  If there are Aliens out there, we know nothing.”  Sam turned back to Ianto and Jack. “Look, we tried to work with an organization before, and it didn’t go well.  The Men of Letters – well they regretted trying to come into America and kill innocent beings.  We don’t give second chances to anyone but family, especially not the government.”

 

“We’re above the government,” Jack said.

 

“And that means you get even less of a chance.  We’ll trade information.  Castiel can tell you what he can about Princes of Heaven, and we’ll see if we see each other again.”

 

Jack clapped his hands together. “Right, so what is this we heard about a heart missing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another part done! I want to get a kind of part 2.5 done to post as a one-shot for the series and then we're going to go into Michael hunting!

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY FIRST - the Jack Compass is a thing. I recently rewatched Torchwood and when I watch the show of course I watch my bb boy Ianto and he literally follows Jack with his eyes all the time.  
> ALSO - when I was looking into the in-show canon Supernatural books, they make no sense? So Sam and Dean Winchester have been on the news before. And the Chuck writes this series about two brothers named "Sam" and "Dean" (Becky confirms that he uses those names) AND you could fact check like all of their cases? Like Martha did? HOW DOES NO ONE SUSPECT THEY'RE REAL???  
> FINALLY - do expect some minor Gwen bashing throughout this series. I'll always try to tag it but I'll probably always be passive aggressive against her? I never liked her and she reminds me a lot of a girl who really messed me up in High School. So yeah. She probably won't ever be actually in the story and always probably passive aggressive against her.


End file.
